


The Half Way House

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Tired Little Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 00:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean gets busted up on a hunt - nothing major, but enough that a long drive back to the bunker isn’t immediately possible, and Cas is in the realm of the Fae, trying to find a way to stop Michael, so there’s no chance of an Angel-911.What there is, a couple of hours away, is Rufus’s old cabin, and a chance for Dean to rest there until he’s strong enough to go on.But the cabin stirs up old memories, and has both the brothers contemplating their futures.





	The Half Way House

“No,” Dean said. “No fucking way, Sam, come on.”

But it was half hearted at best, all words and no bite, and that told Sam that even if Dean’s head was saying no, they both knew his body was saying yes.

Sam got out of the car, and came around to Dean’s side and opened the door. Dean looked up at him, but Sam could see he was exhausted, and he was shivering now too.

Winter wasn’t here yet, but its nip was in the air, and they weren’t going to stay out here while Dean let himself be talked around.

“Dean,” he said.

His brother sighed, and reached out his hands, and Sam pulled him carefully onto his feet. Then he tucked Dean into his side, biting his lip to stop a giggle against the annoyed huff that earned him, and got him into the cabin.

It had been a long time since they’d last been out here and, though he’d never shared his thoughts on it with his brother, Sam had hoped never to have to come out here again.

It held too many bad memories: of Dean being hurt, of that battle with the Leviathan that had taken Bobby from them, of how broken poor Cas had been while it seemed like there was nothing to do to help him.

And Dean, so angry at Cas especially even though Sam caught more than a few glimpses of Dean watching the angel when he thought no one was aware, and looking so honestly distraught that Sam didn’t know who to comfort first.

In some ways, things were better, now, and in some ways worse.

One of the ways he could currently class as worse was Cas being without his wings; bad for all of them, since it meant enforced separation and them being unable to get to him if he needed help fast.

Or him being unable to get to them, which meant until the angel returned from the Fae world, hopefully with a way to locate and trap Michael, Dean would have to heal up the old fashioned human way.

That would take time, so, with Dean stuck with a broken ankle and two busted ribs and a couple of broken fingers to boot, Sam knew he’d be taking care of his brother in the interim.

He suspected that would be harder on Dean, than on him, and that the next couple of days, until Dean got his strength back enough to make the final push back to the bunker, would be a little tense.

++

After getting Dean to the creaky old sofa, Sam had gone downstairs to grab some lamps when he heard the crash from above him.

He bolted back upstairs, doubting it would be _their_ kind of trouble (the hunt that had led to Dean’s injuries was done, the vampires beheaded and the bodies buried) but he drew his gun just in case.

When he came out on the first floor though, it was to find Dean on the old worn rug, cursing up a storm as he tried to get back onto his feet.

“Dean, what the hell.” He put the gun down and grabbed his brother under the arms and hauled him up and set him carefully on his feet.

His crutch was nowhere to be seen.

“Dean,” he chided, but his brother waved him off and hobbled towards the sink.

“This place’s gross,” he complained, and drew back the dusty curtain to reveal the yard, and their car. “Holy shit, we’ll catch something in here and lose our balls, or something.”

Sam stayed close, but he let Dean potter. He knew anxiety when he saw it; Dean was hurt and he’d gotten used to being able to recover at home, in the bunker, with a solid door between his family and the world, and now he didn’t have that _because_ he was hurt.

There was just him and Sam, in this cabin, with Cas someplace they couldn’t even reach him.

And the cabin was filthy, Sam had to give Dean that, which was probably making his brother even more unsettled.

Maybe pulling in here wasn’t the best idea, but their cards were nearly maxed out, and what was left Sam wanted to save for gas to get them home.

It was two days, though, two days for Dean to get strong enough for the rest of the journey home.

He grabbed Dean’s crutch, tucked it under his brother’s arm, and went back downstairs to grab the lamps and see what, if any of the food in storage was edible enough to add to the supplies he’d grabbed while Dean was napping in the car.

++

By dark, between the two of them, the cabin was as homely as they’d been able to make it.

Which wasn’t much, but it was cleaner, and that meant Dean could sit and touch things without getting that look of germy-doom about him.

Dinner was not complicated, or impressive, but they were both hungry enough to eat it anyway, and Dean refrained from the teasing which Sam had expected; that worried him.

But after, as he picked up the plates and set them in the sink to steep for the morning, he could feel Dean’s eyes on him.

“I just…”. He turned around to find Dean watching him, the shadows hiding most of his face, but they couldn’t do anything to hide what showed in his voice. “I just want us home, Sammy. You, me, Cas.”

Sam crouched down in front of him. They’d been doing this a long time, and he knew they were, all three of them, running on empty. There was just no more to give, and Sam had a feeling that once they dealt with Michael, if they survived it, then they’d be calling it a day.

The bunker would be home to two weary hunters, one weary angel, and a nougat-loving nephilim, and Sam found a quiet longing in himself for that moment.

Until then, though…

He damped down the fire, and helped Dean to get changed and into bed. When he’d changed, himself, he got in, and tucked Dean to him, and watched his brother slowly slip into sleep.

Another couple of days, and they’d head back to the bunker.

Back to their home. Back to their family.


End file.
